Shelby put a hand to her throat, hearing very clearly what Nicola was trying hard not to say.
"Like my mother, you mean?"
"No. Of course, no."
"Because I'm not her, Nic. I'm nothing like her."
"I know."
"Nic?" Shelby twisted her hands. "You're talking to me like I'm a mental patient. Just saying."
"I'm not. Promise. I just want to help you get some peace and quiet, out of the spotlight."
Shelby nodded slowly. She got it, but seriously? Had no one ever seen grief before? Was it supposed to be a neat black dress, a pretty veil, and some delicate tears into a monogrammed handkerchief? Was it supposed to be a quiet sob as a coffin rolled by? An admirable chin-up-shoulders-back stiffness at the graveside?
Bullshit.
It wasn't.
Grief was a ripping, tearing, powerful force that broke your ribs and drained your tears while memories tormented you from all directions. It was hard, and it sucked … and it shouldn't have to be silenced.
But she-she was definitely being silenced.
She just didn't know quite why.
-
Late the next afternoon, Shelby's eyes burned with fatigue as she stared at a strange, majestic landscape and tried to come to grips with how she'd ended up here. Kyla Driscoll had kept up a running monologue from the driver's seat, and in two hours, Shelby had learned more about the state of Montana, the town of Carefree, and the ranch itself than she probably would ever need to know.
She'd smiled and nodded in what she'd hoped were appropriate intervals, but as chipper and welcoming as Kyla was, Shelby couldn't wait to get to the ranch, find her cabin, and get started on the disappearing-for-a-month part of Nicola's little plan.
She'd held it together on the plane ride-flying coach for the first time in twelve years. Yeah, LolliPop might be underwriting this little getaway they'd engineered to keep her under the radar, but they weren't being shy about making it clear they were doing it under duress. There'd be no assistant, no private plane, no bodyguards, and no waiting limo at the other end.
She'd held it together at baggage claim, as she'd hefted her four huge suitcases off the conveyor and longed for someone besides tiny Kyla to help muscle them to the parking garage. She'd held it together as she'd pulled herself into a truck so tall it made her duck as they exited the parking garage, sure they were going to shave the roof of it right off. And she'd held it together when Kyla had described her cabin, complete with a little kitchen where she could make all of her own meals.
Shelby didn't know how to cook an egg, let alone meals.
And right now, her right calf was cramped, she needed a bathroom, and her wig was itching like crazy. Nicola hadn't wanted her to be recognizable as either Tara Gibson or Shelby Quinn, so they'd gone with the light-brown waves and big sunglasses. Tara's dark hair was packed in one of her suitcases, and somewhere under the spray and bobby pins, Shelby's own blond locks were hiding under the fake brown tresses.
They couldn't get to Whisper Creek fast enough.
"Almost there," Kyla chirped, as if she'd heard Shelby's thoughts. She waved her arm in an arc across the dashboard. "This is Whisper Creek land all around us now."
"Wow." Shelby's eyes widened. Rippling grasses swayed in the late-afternoon breeze, their tips touched by angled sunlight. Between the blades, wildflowers peeked out, splashes of whites and reds and yellows. In the distance, she could see mountain peaks rising, their muted blue and purple a complement to the wide, blue sky. "It's stunning."
"Yeah." Kyla looked over, her smile wide and genuine. "Hard not to fall in love with this place. I'll warn you ahead of time."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"It might also be harder than it should be to not fall in love with the cowboys." She winked. "Woman to woman, I feel the need to warn you about that, too."
"Thank you." Shelby felt a slight smile emerge. "I'll try to avoid the cowboys."
Kyla shook her head. "Oh, don't do that. They're half the fun." She flicked on her blinker and turned onto a wide gravel drive flanked by a tall archway and white whiskey barrels spilling over with red flowers.
"This looks like a movie set." Shelby leaned forward to look up at the archway, which spelled out WHISPER CREEK RANCH.
"I mentioned the cowboys, right? Hang out long enough, and you'll definitely think you're on set."
"So … those aren't models, then? On your website?"
Kyla laughed out loud. "Nope. All real."